


Illumination

by Avengerz (orphan_account)



Series: The Beauty of the Darkness [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bullying, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know how to tag this, Illness, M/M, Steve gets beaten up in alleys okay?, Switches in orientation?, War, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers didn't come tearing into this world, kicking and screaming. He didn't run and jump and laugh as easily as other kids did. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't be amazing.</p><p>(( Part 2 of "The Beauty of the Darkness," but can be read as a stand-alone. ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illumination

**Author's Note:**

> An interlude in my Darkness series, introducing Steve, before we get back to the action with Tony.
> 
> Sorting through half a dozen conflicting sources about Steve's childhood was quite confusing, as you might imagine, but I hope I did both comic and movie canon justice.
> 
> EDIT: Kinda Winter-Soldier compliant? I don't know, judge for yourself.
> 
> Enjoy!

_July 4, 1918_

_Brooklyn, New York_

_  
_A woman's scream rends the air, echoing through long white corridors dimly lit by dull electric light. The scream is broken off by a gasp. A few sobs can be heard in the sudden silence before another cry echoes through dozens of halls. It's a heartrending sound of genuine agony, but to the doctors and nurses at Brooklyn Hospital Center, the sounds are nothing new.

 

Bringing children into the world is never as romanticized as it sounds, but this birth is a particularly hard one. Sarah Rogers has been in labor for hours, tears streaming down her gaunt cheeks as she clutches spasmodically at the sweat-stained sheets. Nurses bustle around her as a doctor calmly orders her to  _"Push!"_ Sarah's exhausted response is a grunted  _"I am, goddammit!"_  between gasps for breath. There is no one with her to clutch her hand or share her pain - Joseph had been deployed three months ago, regretfully leaving behind his pregnant wife with a promise to return.

 

Finally,  _finally,_ it's over, and the doctor stands, triumphantly holding a blood-soaked baby. “Congratulations.” The doctor beams. “A beautiful beta boy!” The baby is tiny, dangerously so, but coming nearly a month too early will do that to a baby. Even his screams are weak, broken by gasps for air. The two nurses share sad, knowing looks. It's unlikely the child will survive the night.

"Let me see him." Sarah gasps. She's too weak to hold the baby, but the doctor quickly wipes off the worst of the blood and presents the child to his mother. A flash of blonde hair shows beneath the blood and Sarah smiles, catching one flailing fist with a gentle finger. The baby latches on to it, clutching it determinedly despite his tiny hands. A brilliant, albeit tired, lights up Sarah's expression, and she looks beautiful, despite her thinness and exhaustion. "He's so beautiful..." She whispers, and the nurses look away sadly.

"Do you have a name for him?" The doctor asks kindly.

"Steven. Steven Grant Rogers."

The doctor murmurs praise of the name as he passes Steven off to one of the nurses to wrap up in a blanket. The man is young, barely out of med school. This is likely the first baby he's ever delivered, and a strange wonder lights his face from the inside as he glances at the baby. "Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers. We'll write up a birth certificate. You can visit Steven tomorrow, but it's best if you sleep now."

Sarah sighs, watching Steven in the nurse's arms with longing eyes. "You don't think he'll survive the night, do you?"

The doctor's eyes widen. "Mrs. Rogers, please, I'm sure-"

 

Sarah's eyes flash at him, suddenly furious. "Dr. Peters, please, save your placations. I'm a nurse, I know the likelihood of his survival." Dr. Peters falls silent, and Sarah repeats, grief in every syllable. "I know his chances. But," Now there's an odd humor to her face. "If anyone can pull through it, it's him."

 

Despite everyone's doubts, Steven Grant Rogers survived the night. And the next. And the next. The tiny baby boy struggled through each breath, day in and day out, but he survived. Finally, not even his laundry list of ailments could keep him at the hospital, and, nearly two months after his birth, he traveled from the hospital with Sarah to the tiny apartment that would be his home for many years to come.

Sarah stays with her sickly newborn at home for as long as she can, but the bills can’t be paid on the rare checks they get from Joseph’s service. Soon enough, she returns to the hospital in order to keep their tiny family afloat while their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Hartson, looked after Steve. Influenza is sweeping across the country, one of the biggest outbreaks in American history, and Sarah is swamped with work accordingly. She returns home late at night exhausted and weary, to tuck Steve into bed before proceeding to get as much sleep as a single mother with a newborn can.

It's almost inevitable that Steve would fall ill, what with his poor immune system and earlier sickness. Now Sarah's long nights are full of care-taking as she tries to keep her child alive. In yet another show of extreme stubbornness and luck, the young Rogers pulls through yet again.

But Sarah has no time to rejoice her son’s survival.  “We regret to inform you of the passing of your husband, Lt. Joseph Rogers.”

 

Grief weakens Sarah even more, and she, too, falls susceptible to the illness sweeping the nation. This time, there is no one to take care of her. Her few friends and coworkers do their best to help keep Sarah afloat until she gets better. The illness does eventually pass, but Sarah will never be as strong as she was.

“Mom?” A young voice rouses Sarah from where she is slumped over the kitchen table. She startles upwards, rubbing at her eyes with the back of a hand still clutching a bill she can’t pay. Still, she manages a smile for the scrawny 12-year-old boy standing in the kitchen doorway. “Yeah, Stevie?”

Steve hesitates, a look of uncertainty flickering over his gaunt features before he shuffles forward. A sheet of paper is clutched in one hand. “Um, could you help me with my homework?”

“Of course.” Sarah replies, surprised. “Why did you think I wouldn’t?”

Steve shrugs, looking a bit ashamed. “Well, you’re so busy…” He glances meaningfully at the pile of bills and the checkbook on the table.

Sarah smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “I’ll always have time for you, sweetie.”

“Okay.” Steve smiles and hops up on the other stool before smoothing the paper out on the table. “It’s for my Orientations class. It’s makeup for last week when I was sick, so I don’t understand some of the questions.” Sarah nods her understanding, and Steve points at one question. “It’s about the roles of the different orientations in society.” He tells his mother, “But I don’t know what the roles of Omegas are. Do you know?”

Sarah laughs, a rare, bright sound. “Sweetie, you’re asking the right person, considering I’m an Omega.” She thinks for a moment. “Well, it’s generally accepted that Omegas are precious since they’re the child-bearers. Omegas are also generally physically weaker than the other orientations and more inclined towards gentle natures. But don’t underestimate us!” She adds with a wicked grin, and Steve shakes his head quickly. “Some Omegas prefer to stay home with the kids, but we’re still allowed to have jobs and everything. There are some restrictions on going into manual labor or action jobs like the army, but even though the Alphas in government are ridiculously protective, they still respect our human rights.” She ruffles Steve’s hair. “That’s another reason I’m glad to be in America. Omegas aren’t treated so well in other countries.”

Steve is silent for a moment, mulling this over with a somber expression. He looks up at Sarah with serious blue eyes. “I love America.” He declares with earnest seriousness, and Sarah grins.

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, didn’t you have another picture you wanted to show me?”

 

Steve’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah!” He jumps from his chair and runs up the stairs. His steps slow halfway up as his asthma catches up with him, but he continues on determinedly. Sarah smiles after him, bittersweet, before looking back at the pile of bills on the table with a sigh.

Few children are blessed with a mother quite as perfect as Sarah Rogers. She is kind, generous, albeit poor, and she always cares. Steve loves the time he gets to spend with her, when he would babble about his latest drawing, or she would tell him about the children at the hospital.

Jane, who had come down with a nasty head cold, or Peter, who broke his arm climbing a tree. Matthew, who had knocked three of his teeth out playing baseball, or Rachel, with a frightful case of tuberculosis.

3 weeks later, Rachel is released from the hospital, her strong young immune system winning the bacterial battle in her body.

A month and a half after that, Sarah Rogers dies.

Her immune system had never really recovered from her bout of influenza, and near-constant exhaustion for years on end before didn’t help her body any. She struggles with the illness for several weeks, but even Sarah’s stubbornness is eventually overcome.

 

Steve, with no family and no friends, is alone in the world.

“Hey!”  A dark silhouette at the entrance to a grimy alley, an angry shout. “Leave him alone!”

The two Alphas turn briefly from their cornered prey, surprise clear on their features. Then they take in the boy that threatens them, and sneers crease their faces. The larger, a red-head covered with a terrible case of acne. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do if we _don’t_ leave pretty boy here alone?”

The omega cowering up against the alley wall in front of them whimpers quietly and worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

Steve draws himself up to his, admittedly not very impressive, full height. “I’ll stop you.” He says, determination threaded through every word.

They burst out laughing.

Steve manages to dodge the first punch, and lands a wild haymaker on the smaller, brunette boy’s jaw. His luck doesn’t last, and the next punch takes him square in the gut. Steve crumples forward, gasping for breath, just as a knee comes forward to collide with his nose. It breaks instantly, and a spout of blood splatters onto the filthy asphalt.

Steve looks up through tears and a haze of pain to see the boy slipping away. At least some good will come out of his stupid bravery.

A backhand from the redhead snaps his head to the side and Steve stumbles up against the wall.  A forearm across his throat blocks off his airway and the redhead appears in his vision. A grimace twits his features into even uglier shapes as he shoves his fist into Steve’s stomach once more.

“You’ll stop us, huh?” He breathes, breath hot and rank against Steve’s face. Behind him, the brunette snickers, a cruel sound.

“Hey!” Another shout pierces the air of the alley, and the alphas turn towards the new interruption with twin expressions of exasperation. “Leave him alone!” Steve would laugh if he had the breath.

There’s another boy in the alley now. He’s taller than Steve, and bigger, but not bigger than the two bullies. Still, his stance is defiant. “What’d the green-bean do to you, anyways, kick you in the shin?”

With a growl of annoyance, the two boys turn towards their newest annoyance. Steve slips to the ground as the ginger releases him, gratefully gasping for breath. The next couple of seconds are a bit of a blur as Steve tries to get air for his oxygen-deprived brain. When he looks up, though, the brown-haired boy is reeling against the wall, blood gushing from his nose. The redhead lasts slightly longer as he and the newcomer exchange blows, but an undercut from the smaller boy finally slips through his defenses and the pimple-ridden boy falls to the asphalt, one hand clutching his jaw.

“Wow.” Steve gasps out from where he’s still against the alley wall. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Goldie’s Boxing Gym.” The other boy responds with an easy grin as he shakes out his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He offers his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Steve takes it. He can tell the second he touches the boy’s hand that he’s an Alpha, even if he couldn’t have guessed from his fighting earlier.

“Thanks.” Steve says, looking away as he wips blood away from his nose.

“No problem.” The boy accompanies Steve out of the alley, both of them ignoring the moans of the boys behind them. “What _did_ you do to make them so mad at you?”

Steve flushes slightly. “They were pickin’ on an Omega.” He mutters. “I don’t like bullies.”

The boy - and Steve really needs to get a name – grins. “Neither do I.”

“I’m Steve, by the way.” Steve offers his hand, and the boy shakes it. “Steve Rogers.”

“I’m Bucky. Well, my real name’s James, but everyone’s got to have a nickname in the orphanage, too many generic names.”

Steve’s eyebrows creep a little higher on his forehead, but he’s not really surprised. It’s Brooklyn in the 1930s. There’s too many kids on the streets and not enough orphanages to put them in. Both of them are lucky to have a place they can go home to at the end of the day.

Steve shrugs. “I’m too new to have a nickname yet.”

Bucky grins and slings an arm around Steve’s skinny shoulders. “Stick with me, green-bean, and you just might earn one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and a special thank you to all the comments that inspired me to write again.
> 
> Kudos are snacks, but comments feed my soul. But seriously I have no idea what I'm doing, writing Captain America fanfic, so constructive criticism is very welcome.


End file.
